


Fleur's Balcony

by Notmuchtosay100



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2018-09-09 15:50:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8898025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Notmuchtosay100/pseuds/Notmuchtosay100
Summary: Fleur loved the sky. She’d sit on her Balcony in her small Kensington flat just as the sun would set every evening, relishing the quiet she’d never become quite accustomed to. While her usual incentive to sit outside in her pyjamas had always been to watch the stillness of the world below, it changed rather abruptly when a certain bushy haired witch moved in next door.





	1. Meeting

Hi guys, back again with a new story that I had to do after seeing a prompt on the OTPPrompts page on Tumblr. 

An AU of sorts, with the Wizarding world a part of their lives - just imagine that Hermione could never warm to Fleur during her visits to the Burrow or Shell Cottage. Also, a rather important detail, Fleur never married Bill but their relationship is positive and somewhat a sibling dynamic, with good relations with the Weasley family. I think Hermione would be about 20/21 and Fleur should be about 23/24.

.

05:14pm, October 12th, 2000. 

Emerging from her fireplace Fleur Delacour was the image of poise. She (gracefully) dropped her bag in her empty flat, kicking off her heels and letting her bare feet sink into the pristine cream rug. Upon first appearances you’d think she hadn’t a care in the world. With her youth, beauty and wealth why wouldn’t her life be perfect – she was a Delacour after all, and that’s what they were known for. 

While this was somewhat true and her only real stresses were whether The Goblins made her stay late at work and what recipe she should make from her immense collection of cookbooks (adapting the measurements for one of course), Fleur couldn’t help but feel the slightest gnaw of loneliness when she would arrive back home. It’s not like she didn’t have her friends or her family, but most of them were in France and with her sister still at Beauxbatons and her parents travelling due to their involvement with the interpretations of magical artefacts it was rather sad arriving back to another empty home. 

She didn’t even think about meeting men anymore. No longer did she want to deal with the long line of men who came under her veela charms, becoming a drooling and babbling mess whenever she tried to speak with the majority of them. She knew not to blame them, it truly wasn’t their fault her effect was so strong, but that didn’t stop her from rolling her eyes.

It became a habit of Fleur’s, when she’d moved to London after her appointment at Gringotts, to spend her nights outside on her private balcony. With a gorgeous view of London’s skyline Fleur took pride that her balcony was at the top of the building, giving her the privacy of being able to dress as much or as little as she wanted (and she usually opted for the latter). There was however a balcony directly to her left that she knew belonged to an elderly couple whom she’d had pleasant conversations with over how to cook the perfect genoise sponge. They’d told her they were planning on selling the property and moving to the Bahamas as soon as they could and she’d wished them the best of luck, attempting to hide her distain at losing good neighbours (who never used their balcony). 

So after dinner as she silently slid out into the cool evening air she almost dropped her sketchbook when her vision was overcome with a wave of bushy, brown and beautiful hair. 

.

07:27pm, October 12th.

This girl, scratch that, this woman. Hermione Jean Granger, whom Fleur hadn’t seen in nearly two years after she’d gone back to finish her seventh year at Hogwarts and was now working at the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures (not that Fleur checked up on her every few months) was completely and utterly oblivious to Fleur’s awestruck staring. She stood their, fingers wrapped tightly around the sketchbook she clung to her chest, a chilling breeze blowing her hair wildly across her face with her lips slightly agape. This woman, who ignored her at Shell Cottage, who purposely avoided her at the Burrow and who used her best scowl whenever she spoke was meters away from her reading. This woman, who’s laugh has been the only thing to make Fleur smile at one dark point during the war, who’s thirst for knowledge made Fleur want to better herself, who’s very self was one of the reasons she and so many people she loved were still alive was sat, tea placed precariously on an immense pile of books, reading.

By sheer coincidence (or bad luck) a flock of birds dove past making Hermione’s eyes shoot up and land directly on Fleur. Fleur, at this point, wearing an unimpressive pair of sweatpants and an old hoody she’d acquired when attempting to get into running was so alarmed Hermione was staring directly at her she stepped back, knocking her chair to the opposite end of her balcony. 

“Merde,” She uttered, bending down to cradle her now pounding foot. Fleur didn’t get nervous. Sure the Triwizard tournament had been scary and sometimes she still had nightmares, but she had the skill and knew she’d be fine – even if her performance had been pretty appalling upon reflection. Even during the war she hadn’t had time to think about her feelings and just got on with things. So talking to people was simply a breeze. So how did Hermione Granger make her act like such a fool?

“Fleur?” Came the hesitant voice of the younger witch who she could imagine had closed her book but marked her place almost militarily. Fleur placed her head against the cool white stone, the barrier blocking her reddening face from Hermione.

“Hermione!” Fleur replied, as coolly as she could manage (not at all), standing up a little too quickly and placing her own book behind her back. “It’s been a while, hm?” 

“What are you doing here?” Came the curt reply from the Gryffindor whose arms were folded steadily across her chest. Her signature scowl had found its way to her stunning face making Fleur think how much she preferred her expression when she hadn’t been aware of her presence. While feeling her heart drop at the girls readiness to be hostile she also couldn’t stop her racing heart at the prospect of living next to the main reason she couldn’t marry Bill.

Placing a hand on her hip she put on what she hoped was an award winning smile. “Well I’ve lived here for two years, so shouldn’t it be me asking you that very question?” She could see the shorter girl’s cheeks redden in the darkening light and had to hold back the urge to try and reach out and touch the flood of curls framing her face perfectly. It was only a slab of stone that was blocking her from reaching out to touch Hermione but it felt more like being in a jail cell. The (annoying) thing about being quarter veela is that you fall for certain people much harder than the average person and when that happens there's really no escaping those feelings par death or falling for someone else – which was rare. Yet there were the plusses that your veela charms do help people fall for you. Except for when those people were immune, like Hermione. 

“The Ministry buys property I’m sure you know,” Hermione turned her sharp gaze from Fleur across to watch the setting sun, allowing Fleur to see the exact moment her striking features softened. “They put me here so I’d be near the Portkey in Hyde Park, it takes me directly to the Beast division who we’ve been having... problems with,” Hermione let her arms drop to her sides as she turned to Fleur once again “It’s simply for work, and I wanted a change anyway. I had no idea you lived here, plus it’s none of your business,” she added quickly, grabbing what looked like an old copy of ‘Hogwarts: A History’ and marching back into her flat, leaving a fairly stunned Fleur in her wake.

Sitting down glumly at having a not so positive first impression with her neighbour she let her sketchbook drop onto her lap and opened to a fresh page. Instinctively she began to draw the younger witch, letting the pencil glide delicately across the paper. Almost instantaneously she felt her shoulders becoming lighter and her heart rate slowing to a more normal level. Before the war Fleur had loved art but there had never been much time for painting at Beauxbatons. Thus when the war was finally over Fleur told herself that whenever she had free time, which was a lot now, she would spend it working on her paintings or simply doodling. However her favourite thing to draw were portraits, and she’d never done the one she truly wanted to draw, until now. She could easily recreate Hermione’s features from the hundreds of pictures she’d found in the Daily Prophet or in the Burrow but she still wished she had her model in front of her, especially when tackling the sheer amount of curls. 

As Fleur was about to finish the sketch fifteen minutes later she heard the crack of an opening door, the clinking of a cup and the closure all done very slowly in an attempt to be as silent as possible. A small smile formed on her face as she closed her book and sighed.

“The English and their tea.”

.

07:00am, October 13th. (Friday)

Groggily opening her eyes to the blaring of her muggle alarm, Fleur reached over and turned it off with an exasperated tap. Unfortunately sleep had not come easy and after hours of tossing and turning, flinging the duvet to the floor and then regretfully having to get up and put it back on, Fleur had only found sleep at around four in the morning. Making a mental note to buy a sleeping draught in Diagon Alley Fleur started her lengthy morning routine to get ready for work. 

Due to her lack of sleep and focus being on a certain someone only a wall away Fleur took even longer than usual to finish everything. Yet, as she did so every morning, she went to the back of her building into a communal courtyard that no one seemed to use during the winter months and was greeted by a small white cat. Replacing the old bowl with a fresh one of Whiskers (that she still gagged at the sight of) the tiny cat rubbed itself against her calf, a quiet purring accompanying the morning birds.

“Bonjour, Trésor” She mused, gently sliding her hand over his fur as he began to eat the mess that she had put down. Checking her watch she pulled herself up quickly, rushing back inside to make it on time, unbeknown to her was the presence of the young Gryffindor staring down at the duo two stories up curiously. 

When Fleur finally arrived at work she was only just on time and got numerous dirty looks from different Goblins as the sound of her heels reverberated around Gringott’s hall – not that this was any different from her usual, more punctual, entrances. 

Spending an uneventful morning having consultations with numerous witches and wizards, as well as politely declining the numbers of five different people, Fleur found herself finishing work early at one o’clock on the dot. Therefore Fleur, otherwise excelling as potions back at school, much preferred to buy them from the apothecary rather than having her home smelling of miscellaneous ingredients for days on end. Thus she found herself waiting for her potion to be completed by visiting Florean's Ice Cream Parlour for what she believed was a well deserved reward.

Placing herself outside with a scoop of chocolate and raspberry she leant back against her chair, letting her hair fall picturesquely over the end. Pulling her coat tightly around her middle she almost laughed as she ate her ice cream (alone) in the chilly October weather, suddenly remembering her little sister shouting ‘It’s never too cold for ice cream, Fleur’ during a family holiday to the Alps. She was glad it was so busy around this time in Diagon Alley, enjoying the hustle and bustle in front of her, as everyone was too preoccupied to notice her watching them. That was until she caught sight of a familiar fiery red colour in her peripheral, situated next to a much shorter and more female accomplice with curlier and browner hair indeed. Whipping her head to the side she focused in on Monsieur Weasley and none other than Hermione. Turning back to her half finished ice cream she bent herself forward, trying her hardest to appear as inconspicuous as possible. Yet she could see the youngest male Weasley had indeed spotted her and had promptly pointed her out to Hermione. 

Unfortunately for Fleur, the shorter girl who previously looked as though she had been ignoring Ron turned to look in her direction. Now from what Fleur could make out, Hermione didn’t pull a face that said complete disgust as the Weasley boy continued to speak somewhat flamboyantly, she most notably didn’t turn to leave in the opposite direction either. Taking this as a small victory and concluding Hermione didn’t hate her enough to flee to the Himalayas when Fleur was around, she decided to make their presence known. Looking up she feigned momentary surprise at the duo and sent them a friendly wave. 

Ron, who had just barely grown out of his infatuation with Fleur, sent a bright smile back while Hermione stood awkwardly next to him fiddling with her particularly gorgeous cherry scarf. Fleur had almost relaxed until Ron began making his way towards her. Taking a deep breath and reluctantly putting her spoon down Fleur stood up and closed the gap between her and the Weasley boy.

“Bonjour, Ronald,” greeted Fleur fondly, leaning in for her traditional kiss on the cheek greeting. It was hard not to fall in love with all of Bill’s family, even if Ron acted quite simple sometimes.  
“You alright Fleur? Long time no see!” Replied the slightly shorter boy, pulling away from Fleur’s French greeting. 

“Oui, I’m quite alright. And yourself?” Fleur let her hands clasp together in front of her as she tried to pay attention to Ron. It was becoming increasingly difficult when a certain witches gaze was resting directly on Fleur.

“Oh yeah we’re good. Bill was telling me you’re coming for his birthday next week. It’s gonna be mad, Harry’s coming, Neville will be there with Luna. Oh and Hermione’s coming too obviously,” He gestured behind him to the shorter girl who’s gaze met with Fleur’s for only one painful second.

Putting her longing to the side, for now, Fleur mustered the most excited smile she could “I’m very much looking forward to seeing everyone again!” Fleur wasn’t sure Hermione had told anyone she was living directly next to her, but why would she even bother telling anyone that in the first place, it’s not as if Fleur regularly kept in touch with much of the old gang except for Bill. Although she did write Harry every few months who kept her up to date with the goings on of all her old friends, he would also send her muggle cooking magazines which she was truly appreciative of. Sure she could buy them herself, but it ruined the surprise of opening a huge hall of his old magazines.

“Well we should get going, Mione and I were just picking up a few things for her house warming party tomorrow. Why don’t you come along? The more the merrier right Hermione?” He turned expectantly to Hermione who’s face looked adorably surprised. 

“I wouldn’t want to barge in on Hermione’s new home,” Interjected Fleur, nervously clasping her hands together once again. “Plus I probably have some work to finish up tomorrow anyway,” Lied an increasingly nervous Fleur.

“No, he’s right,” Said a hesitant Hermione, “It’ll be fun, please come Fleur. It starts at six.” Fleur felt her face heat up as she rubbed the back of her neck timidly.

“Well... Ok, I’ll see you both tomorrow then,” replied Fleur. Pulling her coat tighter round her middle to ensure they thought her shaking was from the cold, she said a quick farewell and went to go pick up her potion. From behind her however she heard a confused Ronald ask Hermione a pretty obvious question.

“But Mione, how does she know where you live?”

 

.

Well there you guys go!  
I hope you like this impromptu Fleurmione fic, honestly this is one of my favorite ships in the entire world. Now I know Bill’s birthday is in November, but let’s pretend it’s in October, let’s call it – artistic license – anyways.

Let me know what you think! This definitely isn't finished but I'm not sure how many chapters it will be.


	2. Housewarming Party

05:30pm, October 14th. (Saturday)

Fleur sat on her bed, miscellaneous pairs of shoes strewn across the floor, still deciding how casual she should dress for a housewarming party. But to Fleur this was no simple housewarming party. This was THE very housewarming party that would define how her relationship with Hermione would develop – if it developed at all. Having opted for a simple jumper and jeans Fleur was faced with the predicament of heels or no heels. God forbid she offended Hermione in her own home, let alone the first time she stepped inside. Running a delicate hand through her hair she leant back onto her bed, having (in her opinion) a ridiculous amount of room for one person. She could already hear movement from beyond the wall as guests began to arrive while she gently played with the hem of her bed throw. She turned onto her side and pulled the throw closer to herself, inhaling the smell that reminded her of home back in France. Her mother had given her the throw as a gift when she had moved to England but it had never lost the familiar feel of family, especially when there was a small tear where Gabrielle had hurled herself onto the bed almost breaking a tooth in the process. 

As she pushed herself up Fleur shook her head, Hermione wouldn’t care what shoes she wore because Hermione would never be that shallow of a person, Hermione was kind and forgiving – something Fleur wished she could be more like all the time. Pulling herself to her feet she slipped into a pair of flats, the French witch then gave one last sparing glance into the mirror before opening her front door and marching to the party. The hallway, empty as it usually was, having only two doors at opposite ends as it was on the top floor felt much longer than it usually did. As the door got closer and closer Fleur’s footsteps got smaller and smaller, the laughter echoing from beyond the walls sounded as if it was taunting her for coming alone. She nervously tightened her ponytail as she reached the door. Suddenly Fleur gasped, she’d forgotten a welcoming gift. She placed a hand to her temple before quickly turning round and escaping to the safe ground that was her own flat. 

Sinking against her door she scanned her home, searching for anything that she could give that wouldn’t look like a last minute gift. ‘Delacours don’t turn up empty handed’ she could here her grandmother saying. She moved to the open kitchen before bending down and looking into her mini wine fridge. It could only hold about 8 bottles and there were only three inside. Looking at the scarce options she picked what she considered the most appropriate – a £40 bottle of Champagne she’d bought spontaneously a few weeks ago that had sat unopened and unappreciated. Hermione wouldn’t appreciate anything too extravagant and Fleur knew this. Fleur wrote a quick card before tying it onto the bottle with a blue ribbon, all while knowing the time had reached six (it’s not as if it’s going to take half an hour to get there).

Stepping out of her home for the second time, Fleur clung to the bottle, her shoes tapping away at the floor as she approached Hermione’s. She knocked, a rather pathetic knock in Fleur’s opinion, but a knock nonetheless. The sounds from behind the door didn’t suddenly stop as she had feared and the quiet music continued to play through as she waited. Hearing the door handle turn she smiled, coming face to face with someone she hadn’t expected to answer the door.

“Ginny? What a pleasant surprise,” The redheaded quidditch player stood tall at the door, as Fleur felt herself shrink despite behind at least three inches taller than the girl. “I wouldn’t have thought you would get door duty?” Fleur questioned, seeing a few familiar faces from beyond the door. 

“Fleur! I didn’t know you were coming! And I know, you’d think Hermione would have a little respect for me, gotta keep the boss happy though,” Ginny laughed, quickly opened the door further and gestured for Fleur to come inside, who promptly obliged, happy to see the smiling Gryffindor. “Oh, and speaking of keeping the boss happy, I’d take your shoes off if I were you, Hermione’s pretty militant about keeping her new floor clean.” Shrugged the redhead, who Fleur knew wouldn’t be bothered about such a faff, but she smiled anyway and slipped out of her shoes. She almost laughed at the near breakdown she had earlier over what shoes to wear and now she was just in socks. ‘How vogue’ thought Fleur as her eyes scanned the room of socks ranging from plain old white like hers, to ostentatious ones worn by Luna and Neville. 

“I brought some Champagne,” Offered Fleur who had followed Ginny to a table set up with drinks and numerous canapés and snacks. 

“Oh brilliant, go and give it to Hermione in the kitchen, I’m sure she’ll love it!” And with that Ginny had disappeared with a can of pringles and left Fleur gaping at old and new faces, but still no Hermione.

Fleur let her eyes quickly scan the room, clocking in on Harry sticking his hand in the pringle tub Ginny had just looted while she was currently putting a whole stack in her mouth. Laughing at the Gryffindor’s antics Fleur began padding her shoeless feet to what she assumed was the kitchen and peaked around the doorframe. 

“For the last time Ronald, if you want to play strip poker you can play it by yourself outside this flat! Everyone has come here for a civilised get together and you won’t make them uncomfortable with your school boy hijinks,” An exasperated Hermione seethed as she was pouring lemonade in what Fleur hoped was a jug of Sangria. 

“Come on Mione’ it’ll be fun!” Ron replied, practically begging on his knees. Fleur had to stop herself from grimacing at the prospect of taking her clothes off in front of any one at this party (well, maybe except one). 

“The answer is no. Now and forever, and the fact you’re aware your sister is a member of this party yet you’re so adamant about seeing her strip is truly concerning,” retorted the bushy haired witch, eliciting a silent laugh from Fleur who was aware she was eavesdropping. 

“It’s not like that! I’d never let Gin’ play!” recoiled Ron.

“Oh of course, but there are certain other girls you’d love to gawk at,” Threw back Hermione, who was adding the final pieces of fruit to a delicious looking jug of Sangria. 

Fleur wasn’t entirely sure if Hermione was simply frustrated at Ron, or jealous. The thought had never crossed her mind that the two could possibly be an item, and Ron was the type to play strip poker even if he was in a relationship. She knew the two had had a minor thing at the beginning of Hermione’s final year but she thought Harry had told her in a recent letter they were just friends? Fleur felt her heart drop at the thought Hermione could be Ron’s girlfriend, but that would give the impression Fleur believed she and Hermione had a chance in the first place. 

Pulling herself away from the door she leant against the wall just adjacent, not knowing to intrude or simply go back to the living room holding the sodding bottle of Champagne. As luck would have it Ron strode out of the kitchen carrying the heavy jug, not noticing Fleur in the slightest. Taking this opportunity at its fullest Fleur practically barged into the kitchen, finding Hermione once again fiddling with a plate of some kind. 

“Shouldn’t the host be out enjoying her own party?” Enquired Fleur, whose heart was hammering in her chest. Hermione turned and leant against the worktop. This pose allowed Fleur to admire an outfit that virtually reflected her own. However Fleur much more enjoyed looking at Hermione in a pair of tight jeans than she did herself. 

“You know, Fleur, I really hope you don’t want to force me to play strip poker,” Hermione sighed as she leant against the back of her elbows. 

Fleur felt her face heat up at the realisation that Hermione had known she was listening the whole time, but she also relished in how Hermione said her name making this awkward third meeting somewhat of a success already “Ah, I didn’t know whether to intrude or not, but if it’s any consolation I brought champagne?” offered the embarrassed French witch. 

“I suppose I’ll let you off, that’s really kind of you,” Assured a smiling Hermione who took the bottle gently. The simple sight of the girl smiling at Fleur made her tense nerves relax, and she found herself leaning on the opposite worktop mere meters from Hermione herself. “Oh, and I wanted to apologise for that time on the balcony. I was a real git, especially when I just invaded your space,” She said, her eyes tracing over the bottle label as she thumbed the bow Fleur had made. 

“Ah, you don’t have to apologise Hermione, it must have been quite a shock to see me there,” Replied Fleur, who was trying to memorise the way Hermione’s hair fell over her shoulders.

“You know it’s really funny, the couple who gave me the keys told me a beautiful and lovely French woman lived in the flat next door, I wasn’t sure I was ready to believe them until I met her, but now I know it’s true,” Fleur laughed until she realised Hermione had just called her beautiful and then all she could do was sit in silent suffering as the blood rushed to her face. 

“They loved cooking,” Was all Fleur could manage as apparently every other logical thing she could have replied with disappeared from her vocabulary. It’s not like Fleur hasn’t been deprived of compliments, much thanks to her veela nature, but when they came from the right person they still caught her off guard. 

“Did they? They said the same about you. Maybe you can make me something one day?” Suggested Hermione as she picked up a plate and made her way towards the door. Turning just as she was about to leave Hermione smirked at Fleur “Oh and Fleur? I would brush up on your sleuthing skills the next time you try to eavesdrop ok?” 

“Oui Hermione,” Fleur put her head in her hands but couldn’t stop the laughter that broke through anyway. 

.

11:14pm, October 14th

It was eleven by the time Fleur got back home. She’d drank more sangria than she’d intended too but in retrospect she needed it after Ron had started singing the national anthem and begged everyone to start undressing until Hermione made him go home in a taxi. Ginny had found the whole thing hilarious and made Hermione promise to have these meetings on a regular basis, while Harry had to be the one to carry Ron out to the waiting vehicle. 

As Fleur changed for bed she thought about how nice it had been to be surrounded by such friendly people, all so happy to see and talk to her – and not just for her looks. Smiling to herself she slid open the door to her balcony, stepping out into the crisp night air with a peppermint tea at hand. She set the cup down on a small wooden side table pushed against the far end of the small space and let herself lean forward against the stone pillar railing. While she’d missed the sunset she could still come out and enjoy the uncharacteristic stillness of suburban London at night. 

“You’re going to freeze dressed like that, Fleur,” Feeling her heart stop from the sudden intrusion she turned abruptly to come face to face with Hermione in literally the exact same position as her, except Hermione was dressed in warmer clothing on a cold October evening. “How on earth can you come outside in a pair of shorts?” Asked the rather entertained witch who was staring at a bewildered Fleur. 

“They’re not shorts they’re just my pyjamas,” Defended the blonde veela, who subconsciously pulled the garments lower in an attempt to reach her knees, which was practically impossible. 

“That’s even worse,” laughed Hermione, a beautiful sound that made Fleur’s stomach flip over itself. Hermione turned to face the view that Fleur had admired so many evenings, giving the French which a brilliant opportunity to change her admiration from said view to the profile of the younger witch. “It really is beautiful, don’t you think?” 

“Oui, it really is,” Replied Fleur, who was sure her view was one of the most gorgeous she’d ever seen. The faint light emanating from Hermione’s flat was illuminating the brunette’s curls and made her look almost angelic. “Thank you for tonight, I really enjoyed seeing everyone again.” 

“You don’t have to thank me, Fleur. It was really nice to see you again. Properly, I mean,” Feeling her cheeks heat up at Hermione’s words, Fleur turned to face the horizon once again. “Oh, and don’t mind Ron, he usually doesn’t drink this much, but when he does it’s... quite a show,” sighed the brunette, despite having a small smile on her face.

“I don’t blame him, I think I drank most of the sangria tonight, and I definitely feel it,” Smiled Fleur, leaning on her elbows as she couldn’t stop herself from turning to look back at Hermione. Summoning most of the courage she could, which was probably more than usual thanks to her being a bit tipsy, she asked a pretty blunt question. “So are you and Ron a couple?” 

A snort sprang from Hermione, followed by a loud and involuntary laugh that made Fleur start laughing at the brunette’s antics herself. “Oh God Fleur, I actually...” She held her sides and leant against the stone pillars, turning to Fleur with eyes half closed from laughter “Did you think Ron and I... Oh my... Wait Fleur so you...” As Hermione calmed down she walked to the joint barrier between Fleur’s and her own balcony “Ok that was kind of mean, no I’m not with Ron. I was, for like a month, but we decided it was best if we were just friends,” As Hermione let out another quiet laugh Fleur walked over to meet her in the middle. 

“Ah, I see,” Replied an elated Fleur who was doing everything in her power to pretend this wasn’t the best news she’d heard all week. “That’s good,” This wasn’t Fleur’s finest moment in the conversation department but Hermione smiled anyway. 

“Oh yeah, it’s great I’m as single as ever,” laughed Hermione, who’s head was slightly tilted as she watched Fleur who’s hands were mere centimetres away from her own on the cold pale stone. 

“That’s not what I meant,” insisted the blonde, who in fact did mean it. “I would have just gotten jealous if you were with Ron,” admitted the still slightly drunk veela. Fleur couldn’t exactly look Hermione in the eyes as she was practically telling the girl she liked her, so instead tensely fiddled with her bracelet.

“Why would you be jealous?” asked a somewhat confused Hermione. Fleur just shook her head, turning suddenly from a happy drunk to a rather sad one. “Come on, Fleur,” Urged the shorter witch, who gently nudged Fleur’s shoulder. 

“I don’t know,” Mumbled Fleur, who unexpectedly felt zapped of all her energy. She turned from Hermione and began walking towards her sliding door, but felt a hand tug her back. She turned to a concerned Hermione, whose hand was holding onto Fleur’s hoody sleeve. “Hermione, please,” Begged Fleur, who didn’t have the will power to pull herself away. 

“Fleur, I don’t understand, what’s the matter all of a sudden?” questioned Hermione, who watched Fleur become increasingly upset in front of her. 

“I’m sorry I’m just tired,” Said Fleur, as her eyes traced from Hermione’s hand to her worried face. “I just need to go to bed,” Hermione let go of the sleeve and stepped back slightly, pulling her hand to her chest. 

“Ok,” Replied a confused and concerned Hermione, who watched Fleur walk into her flat, peppermint tea forgotten. 

“Thanks again, Hermione, I’ll see you later,” Added Fleur, who silently slid the door to her dark flat shut, walked to her sofa and laid down glumly. Why did she have to be such an idiot when it came to this girl? Letting out an aggravated moan Fleur kicked her legs up and down, only imagining what Hermione thought of her now. 

Fleur heard the door to Hermione’s balcony shut and the light outside switch off. ‘I should probably just become a hermit’ thought Fleur, frustration building up inside her. At some point she must have fallen asleep, but maybe if she’d known how worried Hermione was she could have slept a little easier (moving to her bed might have been a smarter decision too).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I know it's been a while, but here's a second chapter to Fleur's balcony. I pinkie promise the third chapter won't take this long because I'm on holiday!!! Which means I can work on it lol. Enjoy! Comment if you'd like and give me any feedback or let me know if I've made any mistakes!! Chat later guys.


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